The van turns right, and I bobble sideways as we pass over a bump in the road. The driver continues up a secluded road where more men stand outside, nodding their heads to let the driver know he’s clear to go.

After about two more minutes, the van finally begins to slow down and soon, comes to a stop. There is a white gate ahead that he parks behind, two guards in all black standing there.

The driver hops out immediately and starts speaking to them, explaining the damage to the van. He then comes around the back as the man I attacked remains seated in the passenger seat, the gun still pointed at me. He’s pissed. I can tell.

Who cares? He’s already ugly anyway. One scar won’t make a difference.

The back door flies open and the driver flicks his fingers, ordering me to get out. With a scowl, I slide across the back, stepping out barefoot. The man with the gray eye took my shoes off during the ride here.

When my feet land on the asphalt, I hear someone let out a low whistle and I look over. One of the guards is drooling like a dog, giving me a look that I find absolutely disgusting.

“Fuck off,” I hiss in Spanish.

“Shit,” he says in his native tongue. “You were right, Lonso.” He looks at the man that had the gun in the passenger seat. “She is a feisty little bitch.”

The driver pulls out a gun and nudges me with it. I can tell he doesn’t deal with their shit often. Either that, or he just doesn’t care. “Let’s go. To the gates.”

The other guard posted there opens it for us and I walk ahead, a gun pointed at my back, studying the large stucco home. It’s nothing like Draco’s, but it is big. The roof is tan and there is a two-door garage, pillars built on the porch and the balcony on the second level.

The guard that was standing at the gate takes the lead and I follow him to the house. When he opens the front door, I feel my chest tighten. I don’t know what’s inside. I don’t even want to find out. But I keep my chin held high, giving a dirty look at the guard before passing by.

The driver grabs my elbow when I’m in the foyer, leading the way now. He walks past a den, a dining room, and even a kitchen, veering left until double doors appear at the end of the hallway.

When he opens the door, I’m truly surprised by what I walk into.

It’s not some kind of holding room with white walls and no furniture. It’s not a room with cages and chains. No, in fact this room is fully furnished.

The floors are made of hardwood, a loveseat perched against the cheetah-print accent wall. I notice the pillows on the loveseat are cheetah print as well, along with the rug in the middle of the room, some of the vases, and even some of the glasses set up by the scotch on the tray.

I almost want to throw up it’s so much.

The driver pushes me forward a little and I look back at him.

“Go. Sit. Hernandez will be here to speak with you soon.”

“This is his home?” I ask.

The driver smirks. He walks to the corner table where the scotch is and pours a glass. I think it’s for him, until he comes in my direction and offers it.

I look down at it before meeting his eyes, then turn my back on him and walk to the loveseat. I sit, one leg crossed over the other, and glare up at him, jaw ticking.

He simply shrugs, his long, black ponytail falling behind him as he tosses the drink back himself. The guard, Lonso, walks in, already frowning at me. I return his frown and narrow my eyes at him when he shuts the door and walks to the table.

They both sit and pull in their chairs. Lonso whips out a deck of cards and the driver sighs, planting his elbows on the table. “We’re in for a long fucking day,” he mutters.

“Fuck, yeah. And I’m fucking starving. I told Lorenzo to order us some fucking tamales or something.” Lonso gives me a sideways glance. “Are we supposed to feed the bitch?”

“You know Hernandez will be pissed if we don’t offer her something.”

I roll my eyes and scoff. These men are fucking amateurs. Compared to Draco’s, I’m honestly surprised they even got to me. This Hernandez person already seems like a fucking joke.

* * *

The clock on the wall tells me four hours have passed. I’ve paced the room, keeping a sharp eye on the guards and the door, while also searching for something I might be able to use to take them out with.

Besides the guns in their waistbands, there is nothing. I could use the vase, bash it over one of their heads, but they’re large men. They probably wouldn’t even bat an eye.

“How much longer?” I snap as I sit back down.

They both ignore me, now playing a game of dominos over chump change.

I keep staring at them. The driver merely ignores me. I get it. He’s obviously the veteran here. He’s used to this. But the other one, Lonso, lets me get under his skin so much I almost want to laugh. He’s the rookie, wanting so badly to be a top dog here.

“What the hell are you looking at?” he finally snaps at me, bushy eyebrows furrowing.

I challenge him, narrowing my eyes, leaning closer, still staring.

“Just ignore her,” the driver mutters, sliding a domino across the table.

Lonso clenches his fists on the table and finally snatches his eyes away. “Stupid bitch.”

The door to the left clinks and then pulls open, and I look at it, my back going stiff. I watch as a feminine figure approaches. “I tell you, Alonso, that is no way to speak to a lady. Especially Draco Molina’s lady.” She comes in, swaying her hips, and I don’t know who the hell she is, but her presence demands respect.

A smile sweeps across her ruby lips, her hand planting on her hip as she focuses on me.

Her hair, a fire engine red, proves that she doesn’t give a damn about being traditional or society’s rules. Her makeup is done to perfection, lashes long and thick, eye shadow smoky. She’s wearing black leather pants and a sleeveless cheetah print blouse.

I look around at the furniture, the cheetah print pattern on the pillows and curtains, and realize this must be her space. She must be important here.

The men rise from the table, dropping their game of dominos and stepping sideways.

“You’re back earlier than we thought,” the infamous Alonso says, smiling at her. “We got her for you. Unharmed, as promised. Though she did put up a fight.” He rubs his upper lip and then his throat, grimacing at me.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” she titters. “Draco doesn’t like weak women. He’s always enjoyed a fighter.”

I narrow my brows, still looking at her. She talks like she knows so much about him. Like she was his best friend or something. It’s too personal. I don’t like it.

She comes toward me in her spiky brown heels. When she extends a hand, I glare down at it, refusing to take it. “Oh, sweet girl, please,” she scoffs, her hand still out. “I have no reason to hurt you—not unless you give me a reason to. After all, it’s not you I want. It’s him. You’re just leverage. Safe leverage, as long as you don’t try anything stupid.”

My mouth twitches. She doesn’t let up on that extended arm, her cheetah print nails on display.

“Who are you?” I ask with a small snarl.

She smiles a simple, meek smile. “Yessica.”

“Where is Hernandez?”

Her eyes stretch wide, and she looks at the guards, busting out laughing then. “You two didn’t tell her? Aww, how cute!” They chortle right along with her, shaking their heads and sitting down at the two-top table to start up another game of dominoes.

“Hernandez?” She finally drops her hand with a sigh, realizing that I’m not going to take it.

“Honey, I am Hernandez. Yessica Hernandez, to be exact.” Her accent thickens when she says her name. My eyes get bigger. Hernandez is a . . . woman? How the hell did I not know this?

“You’re the threat he’s dealing with right now?” I’m in utter disbelief.

She laughs again, taking the seat beside me like we’re buddy-buddy. I slide away, looking her over. “I like the way that sounds. Me, a threat to Draco Molina. The Almighty Jefe,” she teases. “No. I wouldn’t say I’m a threat.” She rubs a finger over one of her diamond rings. “I’m just a woman who knows what she wants. And I know you aren’t a stupid girl, otherwise you wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

“What do you want from me?”

“I already told you, it’s not you that I want. It was never you. Draco is a hard man to find. It seems every time we catch one of his people and try to get them to talk, they get amnesia or something.” She rolls her bright gray eyes. “They can’t ever seem to remember where he is or even who he is. It’s interesting how far they will go and still not speak.”

“And you think I’ll crack and hand him over to you?”

Her laugh fills the large room. “Oh, I know you won’t. If he’s with you, you’re just as loyal as them. You wouldn’t betray him by giving him up. You’d probably rather die, I bet.”

I level my gaze.

“No, see, he knows that I have you. And right about now, he’s waiting for me to give him something to use—something to help him find you. If what I’ve heard is true—about how he’s taken you out in public, and that you are, in fact, a Nicotera—he will be ready to come for you as soon as he gets whatever information he needs.” She scans me with her eyes. “You look just like one, too. A Nicotera. The women always look so . . . fierce.”

She stands up and blows a breath, as if she’s bored. “We have a few hours of alone time. How about we change your clothes and have some dinner? I’ve had a long day, and I’m famished.”

I remain seated. “Dinner? Why, so you can poison me?”

“I have no reason to poison you. Honey, I really don’t even want you here. But I have to have you here to get to him. Don’t be so full of yourself.” She waves a hand, looking at the gold watch on her wrist. “Come. I don’t like my men manhandling women, but if it comes down to that, I make them. So it’s either you walk with me like a good girl, or I have them drag you around like a ragdoll.” Her arms fold and I see her guards square their shoulders through the corner of my eye. “Your choice.”

With a small grimace, I push up to a stand. Her eyes light up, like she’s truly delighted that I will be tagging along with her. Like this is some kind of girls’ night out.

“Smart choice.” She points a finger at me. “And I have the perfect outfit for you!” she says in a singsong voice, twirling around and gesturing for me to follow.

I look at the guards, how they glare at me, but follow her lead. I notice there is a pistol with a cheetah print handle tucked in the back of her belt. She’s no fool. She wants me to see it.

I don’t know what game she’s playing, but I don’t like it. Is this what she did to Thiago? Played friends and let him go? Or is she just doing this so that when Draco comes, he’ll question why she was so lenient with me—why she hasn’t killed me yet? Make him even more paranoid. I realize that’s probably what she does best. She knows him all too well, and I need to know how.

* * *

“You have great hair, you know that? So much volume.” Yessica brushes it into loose waves. I remain perfectly still in front of the vanity, the gold lights shining on us. She’s standing behind me, her guards at the door.

We’re in a bedroom, and of course, there is cheetah print everywhere, though it’s accented with red. I’m finding it unbelievably difficult not to grab the gun she placed right in front of me.

She taunts. It’s her thing. She did it on purpose. She’s trying to put me to the test. I was taught better than that.

She’s had me change into a champagne blouse and a pair of jeans that fit pretty well. We are about the same size, though I’d say I’m a little fuller in the hips and she’s more top heavy.

“You’ll be with me all night, sweet girl. Playing this quiet game won’t be any fun for you.” She steps from behind me, sitting on an empty space at the edge of the vanity. “Don’t you have any questions for me? Like how I know so much about your master?”

“He’s not my master,” I mutter.

“No?” She smiles. “Then what do you consider him?”

I hold her gaze. “My equal.”

“Oh, your equal?” She seems fascinated by that, and a little tickled. She pushes to a stand, picking up a makeup sponge and dabbing it on my cheek. I wince, not from the move she makes, but from the sting. There are several cuts on my face from the thorns. My palms and even my arms are scraped and scratched up as well.

“The explosions really did a number on you,” she sighs. “Sucks it got so out of hand.”

“Why do you want him so badly?” I finally ask when she draws back.

She grabs my elbow, forcing me to a stand.

“He has things I want. Important things. Let’s go.” She picks up her handgun and spins around, tucking it into her waistband again and sauntering out of the bedroom.

I follow her down the hallway, the guards trailing us, and when she takes a left, we’re entering a dining room. This isn’t the dining room we passed when I first got here. This one is much smaller. A four-top table already set up, a bright, diamond-like chandelier hanging above it. I’m so glad there isn’t any cheetah print in here. Only leather and oak.

She takes a seat and then taps the chair to the right of her. I suppress my frown, walking to the seat and sitting. The guard pushes my chair in and I freeze then, giving him a cold look.

“Ease up, sweetie,” Yessica says as food is brought to the table. “They won’t hurt you unless I tell them to. You’re making my evening entertaining so there’s no need to do anything. Unlike Draco, I treat my guests with respect.”

There she goes again, acting like she knows everything about him. I don’t speak and when she realizes I’m playing the silent game again, she says, “Dig in.”

She picks up food for her plate as wine is poured. At first we eat in silence, but I’m sure it’s only because she’s eating. She wasn’t kidding. She is hungry. She cuts into her steak and potatoes, eating rapidly, and then guzzles down her first cup of red wine.

“Mmm.” She clutches her fork and knife in hand. When she’s finished chewing, she says, “You’ll have to forgive me. I haven’t eaten anything but an apple today. Busy, busy day.” She scans me with her bright eyes. “Go on. Eat.”

I stick my fork into the green beans, bringing one up to my mouth. Since it all came from the same bowl and plates, I assume it isn’t poisoned . . . unless she’s just that fucking crazy and has an antidote around somewhere.

As I chew, I feel her watching me. Dropping her knife and fork, she picks up her wine glass and takes a small sip. Then she says, “The scars on your wrists? Where did they come from?”

I blink rapidly at her before focusing on the scars. Insecurity eats me whole, and I shift in my seat, grabbing my wine glass to take a small sip.

“He had you chained or roped up, didn’t he?” she pushes.

Still, I don’t speak.

“How long?”

I breathe unevenly, annoyed by her questions now. Something hard pushes into the back of my skull and I pause on my chewing, looking over at her. Her smile is smug now. Faint, but smug.

“How long?” she asks again.

“Six days.” Anger strikes me, but I remain calm on the outside. The gun is pulled away from my head and I look over at the driver again. He doesn’t look at me. He simply crosses his arms in front of him, staring out of the window across the room.

“Oh, that’s horrible,” she coos. “You know, I’ve heard about you—what happened to you.” She shifts in her seat, trying to get a little more comfortable. “I heard you were here, in Mexico, for a wedding. And not just any wedding, but yours. You were the beautiful bride that was snatched away.” She lowers her wine glass. “How can you live with that? With him? Knowing he’s the man who killed your husband?”

I lower my gaze a little, to the scars on my wrist and then my uneaten steak.

“He ruined your life, Gia, yet you’re still like some lost puppy—loyal to him because he feeds you and bathes you and claims to protect you. And yet,” she murmurs, “here you are. Under my roof. Snatched away again.” She waves a finger at me. “He thinks he’s invincible. Like he can do whatever he wants and get away with it.” Her voice is harsher now. I meet her eyes and she’s frowning. “He has a terrible, selfish mind.”

“Draco isn’t the one who ruined my life. He killed the man that ruined my life,” I say as evenly as possible.

Her gray eyes flash with amusement. “Oh, really?” She leans forward in her seat, picking up her glass again. “Now, that sounds like some juicy gossip. Go on,” she waves an impatient hand. “Tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell. It’s personal.”

She pauses on taking the next sip, side-eyeing me briefly before sighing as if she’s bored. “Listen, sweet girl. En mi casa, nothing is personal. Whatever you consider a delicate matter, forget about it. Either way, I will find out, whether you willingly tell me or I have to beat the answers out of you myself. Doesn’t matter as long as I get down to the truth.” She gloats, like she really can take me on. Let her try me. I’m almost hoping for a one-on-one match. No guns. No weapons. Just us girls.

“I’m not sure what you want to know.” I clasp my fingers in my lap, holding onto my restraint. There are knives in front of me, silver and sharp. They call to me. Whisper—telling me to just kill her and take my chances.

But I’m surrounded. I wouldn’t get far. I’ve counted the number of guards I’ve seen so far. Fourteen, and I’m sure that isn’t even the half. She’s a woman. She requires more protection.

“About the man he killed,” she continues. “How did that man—your husband, correct?—ruin your life?”

“He killed my father.”

She gasps, as if she’s truly shocked. “Your husband killed your father!”

I don’t speak or nod or do anything. I remain perfectly still, fingers balling into fists now. She’s good. I have to remember she’s trying to make me tick. She wants to find a reason to hurt me—make me crack.

“That is some foul shit,” she laughs, rounding her finger around the rim of her glass. She sits back in her seat, crossing one leg over the other and showing off her heels. “I didn’t care about my father, so I guess it wouldn’t hurt me as much if that were to happen to me. But I assume you were close to yours?”

Still nothing.

She looks down at her half-eaten food. “Yes. You were. And let me guess. Draco told you the news? That’s why you’re so keen to him? So loyal? He was close with the Nicoteras, if I’m recalling it correctly.”

Again, I don’t supply an answer.

Not that she cares. She already knows the answers to all of it.

“Sucks.” Her tone is nonchalant. She finishes off her wine then sits forward, dropping her leg and shooting to a stand. She walks to the window, fluffing her hair. “I wonder what he’s doing now? He’s probably flipping everything upside down, searching the city high and low for his little pet. Or maybe not. Maybe he doesn’t even care.”

“He cares, and he’ll come.”

She looks over her shoulder at me, smirking. “What makes you so sure?”

“He will.”

“Aw, sweet girl.” She makes a clucking noise, coming up to me, her heels clicking on the floor. “He makes you feel special? You think he’ll come in here like Superman and save the day.” She wags a degrading finger at me. “No, see, Draco Molina is no Superman. He’s the man that Superman has to take down because he’s so fucked up and vile. He makes you feel these things—like you owe him—but truthfully you don’t owe him shit. Trust me, I know all too well.”

“How do you know?” I demand, searching her eyes for the truth.

Her upper lip quirks up. “Draco has had plenty of women before you, Gia Nicotera. You wouldn’t be the first to go through the Molina Experiment. And an experiment is just what it is. It’s a test to see how long you’ll last with him. To see when you will crack and fold under his pressure, until he no longer finds you useful. Until you are nothing but a piece of meat he can fuck whenever he feels the urge.” Each sentence comes out angrier than the last.

And then it hits me.

“You were with him,” I say in a small voice, eyes expanding.

She grins, pressing a hand down on the table and leaning on it. “Oh,” she exhales. “I breathed Draco. I dreamed about him. I worshipped him. I wanted to be just like him . . . but then I realized something amazing. I realized,” she murmurs, “that I could be so much better.” She looks around, holding up her free hand. “And now I have all of this, plus more.” A light shrug. “Turns out I didn’t need the almighty Jefe after all. But I do miss that angry sex. God, he was so good in bed. So daunting yet so fucking satisfying. That’s a hard combination to acquire these days.”

I curl my fingers around my fork now, pulling my eyes away. I feel her staring down at me, and then I hear a throaty laugh come from her.

“I’m sure you think the same, no?” She stands up straight again, huffing. “Well, you should rest up. It’s been a long day for all of us. David here will be staying in a bedroom with you, just to make sure you don’t try to run away or anything. There are pajamas and there’s even a shower. Make use of it. Be the beautiful doll you are.” Her heels click as she walks toward the arched doorway in the wall that leads to the hall. “Have a good night, Gia.”

When she’s gone, I drop my fork, looking out the window. My heart pounds in my chest, my mouth dryer now. I’m pissed, and I need to find a way out of here right now, but it’s fucking hopeless. This place is locked down. The guards are all over the place. There are people everywhere, and I’ve noticed cameras in each room, through each hall.

Shit.

I’ve never needed Draco more.